


That Man Is Better Forgotten

by highwayKing



Category: Coco (2017)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-03-04
Updated: 2018-03-04
Packaged: 2019-03-26 21:50:03
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,398
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13866705
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/highwayKing/pseuds/highwayKing
Summary: Without Hector life became hard, harder then it would have ever been if he was here. Imelda held her head high trough it all, she started her business and she provided for her daughter, they were doing fine.Still, some days were harder then others. And on one of these days the family photo fell into Imelda's hands.





	That Man Is Better Forgotten

**Author's Note:**

> First time writing anything for 'Coco'! 
> 
> To tell the truth I'm a bit nervous about it, but what I have seen the fandom is full of nice people so I'm looking forward to be a part of it :)
> 
> And so here is my first fic about how that family photograph got ripped.

Days turned to weeks, weeks into months, the string of letters had stopped coming as if their sender had dropped of from the face of the Earth. 

Some people said that's what happened. That Hector ran, that he wrote with dedication week after week, but growing wary and when the opportunity arose he jumped, leaving them alone. Or they would say that he had found someone else, some other pretty senorita in a far away town that had less of a temper and was better behaved, more lady like, not like Imelda who always held her head up high. Even when those same people who said these things on the street behind her back smiled with pity at her, reassuring her that her husband is coming home. She had a pride to her that wouldn't let herself be brought down by them. But it still stung that then the next day they were whistling another tune, about how she should marry someone else, a nice lad with money to take care of her daughter. 

What did they know about Hector. Nothing that's what, and here they were thinking they have it all figured out.

Imelda grew more frustrated with every day that went by without a letter, and angrier with the people who wouldn't shut up about her husband and wouldn't stop talking about her behind her back. 'That poor woman' they said. Soon everybody in Santa Cecilia learned what a deadly aim Imelda Rivera possessed. People walked hurriedly before her house and would cross on the other side of the street if they saw her coming so that they wouldn't give her a reason to beat them black and blue with her boot.

She never accepted any of the rumors. She wasn't a woman that gave into such frivolities. Whatever kept Hector from coming home wasn't the slightest of her business, not any more. That man left and will never come back. She had accepted that a long time ago. 

She took all his letter and showed them into the back of a drawer where she would never have to see them again. She would have preferred burning them, but she didn't had the heart. After all they weren't addressed only to her, they were for Coco as well. To her dear little daughter that looked up at her with wide eyes and asked 'When is papa coming home?' 

It pained to say her 'I don't know, mija.'

She cries now, her dear Coco, in her room, on her bed. On these day Imelda could strangle Hector if he would be before her. 

But he wasn't, and that was the source of all her problems. If he would be here then their daughter wouldn't be crying her lungs out asking for her papa, she wouldn't need to grow up fatherless and she wouldn't be here husband-less and alone.

But she gritted her teethe and carried on. 

She has a business now. She makes shoes, the finest in Santa Cecilia. She would have opened her shop if she wasn't sure that it was so. Imelda Rivera was never going to be get caught selling anything less then perfect. People looked at her as if she was mad, but presented with quality products they had to shut their mouths one after another and bow head before her professionalism. She had no time for a husband that wasn't going to show up.

But on one of these day. One of these days that are the hardest, when Coco is crying upstairs and her hands are hurting from works and the list of orders is growing higher she couldn't help but to be consumed by anger.

On one of these hard days the family photo landed in her hands. 

It cost them a fortune, this one. They had it made when Coco was only two and she was as adorable as ever. And there was she in her best dress, the very picture of grace and stoicism as she was often accused of. Above them there was he, with guitar in one hand and the other on her shoulder touching gently.

He should have never walked out that door. Why did he needed to sing for the world? Why wasn't this enough? He said it so many times that they were his life, his everything. But now she know he loved music more then her, and more then their dear mija.

Blood rushed to her head and with one move she severed Hector's head from the photo.

Whether or not he would be crawling home one day he won't be welcomed here. He isn't part of this family anymore.

She stood to throw the piece into the fire. It would serve him right she thought. But suddenly all the fight left her and she could still hear her mija was still crying and there was no end of her tears.

It was late, she needed to rest. Instead of throwing it into the fire like Hector would have deserved it she threw it into the trash among the other scraps and leather pieces left over from work. It would be gone soon enough. Hector wont be on her families ofrenda ever. A man like that won't be honored not in her family, not ever.

She had a dreamless sleep that night that left her tired in the bones the next morning. When she went to the kitchen the family photo was still on the table where she had left it last night and she briefly wondered if she should take the scissors and remove Hector entirely. But that would be too much. She already had her revenge, Hector will be forgotten. She wont speak a single word about him in this house ever again and soon with time even Coco would forget about that bastardo that left them.

She didn't glance at the trash. Why would she? But if she did she would know that the piece of paper that she carelessly threw away wasn't there anymore.

That night Coco snuck out of her room to get some water. Her head was pounding from the hours of crying she had been doing. That's when she had noticed the picture on the table. It was the very same picture she had spent hours staring at at no end, memorizing her father's face along with all the happy memories she remembered of him, even if there were a few. 

But now her papa's face was missing. She panicked. It was ripped off. She knew her mama was mad at her papa but she didn't knew she would do that. 

Coco spun around looking for the missing piece, afraid that it was lost on the floor some where and she might step on it. But then she realized that she was being silly and looked for the first place it should be. 

And there it was, thrown away in the trash.

She wanted to ask her mama why, but she knew it was a stupid question. Everybody knew why. Because he left, but she knew he would return one day. However long it would take, he would return one day to them and then everything would go back to normal and they can sing and dance again just like when she small.

Quickly she scooped up the picture piece. It was the only thing that remained of her, papa she wasn't going to let it perish. How else could she remember her papa that way. No, the picture would be safe with her, hidden away into the very far end of her drawer. Out of sight, out of mind, at least for others.

On her way back she stopped to collect the letters her papa sent them. She wasn't going to risk her mama throwing them away in anger. And Coco was sure that her mama wouldn't even remember the letter, they have been stacked away so long ago. She only knew about them because she went snooping around her mama's things when she shouldn't have been. She read through every single letter twice since then and knew them back and forth.

But she couldn't lose it, or she might risk forgetting her papa.

Since then she never went to bed without looking at her papa's picture. As far as she knows Imelda never knew that she kept it, it was her little secret.

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, what do you think? I didn't wanted to step on full on angst grounds so it's only mildly painful...? Or it might be not... (it got me tho')


End file.
